


Come On and Slam

by marmaladechainsaw



Series: Love & Basketball [1]
Category: Basketball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:59:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmaladechainsaw/pseuds/marmaladechainsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen Curry gets under LeBron's skin like no one else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! After being a fanfic fanatic for many years, I finally decided to add my humble offerings to this awesome site!
> 
> I am very much NOT a professional writer; I only write for fun, so there may be the odd typo and grammatical error. 
> 
> For now, I'm only posting the first chapter, just to see if anyone's interested. 
> 
> And thus: here is the slash LeBron James/Steph Curry fanfic that nobody asked for, because I thought it was a shame when I couldn't seem to find any! I hope that someone, somewhere might enjoy my little series, just like I've enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> (Oh--and the title of the fic is totally taken from the Space Jam song. Yeah)
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer: This story is taken entirely from my perverted imaginations, and is in no way true.

LeBron was--not nervous, no, because The King didn't get nervous--but, perhaps, slightly on edge regarding that night's game against the Golden State Warriors.

Golden State, who they'd already lost to twice this season, and who he had a feeling would remain their biggest obstacle to winning this season's championship. LeBron remembered the end of last season's playoffs all too clearly: Kevin Love out thanks to a hurt arm (and Kelly Olynyk, the bastard), J.R. Smith suspended for the next two games because of a flagrant foul during the same game, and Kyrie benched due to a bum knee, leaving him the last power player standing. Shump had stepped up, along with Delly, surprisingly; they'd put up a hell of a fight, and LeBron had almost believed it would be enough.

Then it came down to them and the Warriors. The first game ended in a loss for Cleveland, but the next two games were victories, restoring hope in the team and fans alike. All they had to do was win best out of 7, just like they had against the Celtics, Bulls, and Hawks. Battered and worn down like the rest of his team, LeBron had hung in there, determined to bring home the championship for Cleveland for the first time in NBA history. 

In the end, they'd had no chance: with too many players out and the rest of them exhausted and in various stages of injury, the odds had been more than stacked against them, so it was unsurprising when Golden State won the next three games and took the championship for Oakland.

They'd won fair and square, and either way LeBron was proud of his team and how far they'd come, but it was still a disappointment, the kind that had led to his leaving Cleveland in '10 for Miami. Games were played to win, and it hurt more than a little to get so far, only to come in second-best.

But it was a new season, and a new opportunity. This was going to be their year, he thought with sudden, grim determination: Warriors be damned.

Someone suddenly clapped him on the shoulder, startling him from his thoughts.

"You okay, man?"

LeBron glanced up from his place on the bench inside the away team's locker room in the Oracle Arena. It was J.R., looking at him with a furrowed brow, his brown eyes concerned.

"You were spaced out for a minute there or something, man." J.R. arched a brow. "You worried about tonight?"

LeBron scoffed. "Man, fuck outta here with that bullshit," he said dismissively. "I don't get worried." Okay, maybe in truth, he WAS, a little--there was something about the Warriors that seemed to just get to them in a way that no other team did. Every time they played the California team, LeBron knew that their loss against them in last year's finals weighed on everyone's mind. It didn't exactly help that the Warriors had only seemed to get better since last season, crushing them with bitter defeat twice this year already. 

J.R. held up his hands, smirking a little. "Of course not. My bad, Your Highness," he said smartly, giving a mock-bow.

He darted away, laughing, as LeBron took a half-hearted swing at him, rising to his feet from the bench. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him it was only a few minutes til tip off.

A light punch on his arm caught his attention. It was Matthew 'Delly' Dellavedova, grinning at him.

"You ready for tonight, mate?" he asked in his usual Australian drawl, practically quivering with pent-up energy. He often reminded LeBron of an excitable puppy, on and off the court.

He nodded, "I gotta good feeling about this one." It wasn't true, necessarily, but they were already playing against the odds, and they all knew it: no need to psyche his teammates out any further.

"Hell yeah! We're going to wipe the floor with their golden arses!" Delly insisted, his eyes alit with that somewhat manic, competitive light that LeBron knew all too well. It was a look they'd all worn, at one time or another.

From nearby, Kevin Love rolled his eyes as he finished tying his shoe, a slight smile touching his lips at the passionate declaration. Even the usually quiet and often stand-offish Love couldn't resist the overwhelming friendliness and cheeriness that Delly exuded 24/7.

Suddenly there came the sound of the announcer speaking as he began to introduce the home team. Delly brightened even further, clapping his hands together. "It's almost time!" He bounded over to the door, where Mozgov, Shump and Thompson were already gathered. The rest of them finished up what they were doing, preparing to go out on the court.

On the way to the door, LeBron slapped a friendly hand on Kevin's back. "You ready, Love?"

Kevin blinked at him, looking somewhat surprised. While it was true they'd never exactly been the best of friends, LeBron had nothing against the guy, and now with Lue at the helm he was more determined than ever to bring their team closer together.

A small smile touched Kevin's lips, and he glanced away almost shyly, nodding. "Yeah. Let's do it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of my little fic. Thanks to anyone and everyone who's reading/commenting/kudo-ing. I appreciate it!
> 
> This being an NBA fic, of course I had to describe a basketball game being played..hopefully it's not too boring for ya! ( ;

No matter how many times it happened, LeBron still got a thrill out of going out onto the court at the beginning of a game, and tonight was no different. He jogged out onto the floor when the announcer called his name, ignoring the crowd's booing, his blood singing with anticipation. Their starting lineup was him, Kyrie, J.R., Love, and Tristan Thompson: a solid mix, and a bit of a change from when Blatt had still been their coach.

The Warriors were already on the court: Klay Thompson, standing by patiently, his expression inscrutable; Draymond Green, his usual cocky smirk in place, bouncing foot-to-foot like a boxer inside the ring; Andre Igoudola, Andrew Bogut...and the baby-faced killer himself, Stephen Curry.

LeBron felt himself tense as he laid his eyes on the younger man for the first time since their last game against the Warriors over a month ago. The pretty boy looked utterly unaffected by the noise and excitement going on around him, playing with that fucking mouth guard in that way he always did that shouldn't bother LeBron so much, but did. Curry toyed with the guard, chewing on one end of it, the other end sticking up in the air. It bobbed precariously in his lips with each movement, the clear plastic shiny-wet under the bright lights.

LeBron watched with a tightening in his lower abdomen that he was too old to pretend was anything other than arousal. How else to explain how he'd gone home after their last game against the Warriors and jerked off furiously, an image of Curry's soft, plush lips bright and hot in his mind? The point guard obviously had an oral fixation, to the point that it was distracting--for more than one reason.

As if aware of LeBron's thoughts concerning him, Curry suddenly glanced over. He paused in his ministrations, green eyes locking onto LeBron's. LeBron stared back impassively, his eyes narrowed the slightest bit, daring Curry to back down.

A moment later the younger man actually flushed, turning his head and breaking the eye contact. He immediately began messing with his mouth guard again, but it had taken on an almost nervous quality, the plastic moving in quick, jerky movements, his thin shoulders hunched slightly.

LeBron frowned. Weird.

The referee called them together for tip-off: Love against Draymond Green. LeBron took his place, along with his teammates; a moment later, the ref blew his whistle, throwing the ball up in the air, and the game was on.

They got possession first: Tristan managed to grab hold of it, passing it to Kyrie, and they all began the journey down to their side of the court. They pulled a simple play, passing the ball fluidly, only to have it nearly knocked away by Green on a pass to J.R. J.R. held tight to it, planting his feet and making a perfect 3-point shot with ease, claiming the first points of the game.

The game continued steadily, and despite a few mishaps they stayed neck-and-neck with the Warriors well into the second quarter. Curry was his usual self, making 3-point shots from every inch of the court like the legend he'd become. Many times he turned away before the ball actually went in, so self-assured that it would, as if the success of each and every one of Stephen Curry's shots was a universal constant--a law of physics that was impossible to bend. 

A slew of these 3-pointers in a row, and it seemed his team was starting to fall apart again in the way they always did when Curry got on a roll. Delly threw the ball away; J.R. made a shot, missed, got the rebound, and missed again; Moz fouled, and the possession went back to Golden State. The Warriors were up by 10, with only 12 seconds left in the quarter: they passed the ball around, managing to evade the Cavs, and then it was in Curry's hands again. LeBron ran at him, intent on stopping him, but it was too late: Curry took aim, fired, and LeBron turned to watch just as the ball dropped perfectly into the basket with a solid 'swoosh'.

The buzzer sounded, signalling the end of the quarter, barely audible over the roar of the crowd. LeBron glanced back at Curry, his face flushed with thrill and exertion, looking mildly pleased with himself, the damned retainer already out and bobbing in his mouth. He actually smirked at LeBron--a slow, cocky thing that made LeBron's stomach pull tight again with fury and heat--and then he was turning and jogging away to join his teammates for half time.

"Nice try, man." Shump's friendly punch on his arm broke his attention away from Curry's retreating form. "Let's go take a break."

In the locker room Lue gathered them around where he sat on the bench, clipboard in hand. "Alright, guys. We had a decent start, but we've gotta come back stronger this second half. We can't let them pull too far ahead of us."

He went over some plays, putting emphasis on defense and guarding Curry and his golden arm. All too soon the 20 minutes were up, and LeBron was jogging back out onto the court with the rest of his team, steeled with resolve.

The second half started off fast and furious. Delly missed a 3-pointer right off the bat, but Love got the rebound, getting knocked to the floor for his efforts, managing a pass to LeBron as he went down. Draymond Green came up on him, but LeBron turned and shoved back against him, dribbling, before turning in a swift movement and making a successful 2-pointer.

Golden State got the rebound, and it was back to the other side of the floor. This time Iguodola managed a layup, Delly grabbing the rebound, and the ball was theirs once more. 

LeBron darted forward to get closer to the basket, but at the same time Curry tried to dart around him to go after Delly. They ended up entangled, Curry struggling against him in an attempt to get away and pursue Delly. In a sudden flare of temper LeBron dislodged him with a single shove, easily knocking a wide-eyed Curry clean on his ass on the shiny court floor. Immediately the ref blew his whistle, bringing the game to a halt, but LeBron barely noticed. Heart pounding wildly, he looked down at Curry sprawled on the floor, a thrill running through him at how easily he'd pushed Curry down.

The crowd was in an uproar as Curry pulled himself back to his feet, shoulders slumped but face unreadable, his retainer already out. The ref called for possession to go back to Golden State; LeBron gave the ball to him and joined everyone in the slow journey back to the other side of the court, ignoring Lue, who was arguing pointlessly against the call from the sidelines.

Somehow the incident seemed to spur their team on even further: soon they had caught up to the Warriors again, and then surpassed them altogether. They went hard on defense, thwarting several of Curry's attempts at a basket, while Smith, Shumpert, Jefferson, and himself rounded up the points. By the time it was down to two minutes in the fourth quarter they were up by 14, the crowd murmuring anxiously as they watched the home team fall further and further behind.

Golden State was furious: LeBron could tell by the set of their jaws and the tenseness in their shoulders. They were not accustomed to losing to anyone, and while they obviously viewed Cleveland as a threat it was the kind of threat they believed they could eliminate with just a bit of wit and care. Now with so little time left they fought sloppily, with desperation: Curry missed two shots in a row, and after getting the ball back following a 2-pointer from the Cavs they lost the ball on a steal from Love. LeBron had charged ahead, ready, and Love threw the ball hard halfway across the court, allowing LeBron to run in and make a slam dunk with no resistance.

Despite a time out from the Warriors' coach in the last 15 seconds, the writing was on the wall, and all too soon the game was over: 125 to 119 Cavs. LeBron's eyes were on Curry as the final buzzer sounded: pretty face crestfallen, plush mouth slightly downturned, working furiously at the mouth guard. Utterly vanquished. LeBron felt a pleasureable spike of utter schadenfreude at Curry's defeated expression and body language, and the knowledge that Golden State would have to add another loss to their (admittedly) impressive record. 

Moments later LeBron was surrounded by his teammates, all smiling widely--even Love--and exchanging friendly touches and words of praise for each other and their win. The thrill of the game was always enjoyable, but the thrill of victory was even better. LeBron turned back to his teammates and joined them in their celebration, his adrenaline still on high, the thought of Curry's pouty look still in the back of his mind like a dog-eared page in a book.

Maybe the thrill of beating Curry was the best thrill of all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of my little fic! 
> 
> This is where the sex comes in. I must admit, although I've been reading smutty fanfic for years and years, I wasn't so confident about actually writing it. So I hope it doesn't disappoint too much! And the cheesy line at the end was very much deliberate ( ;
> 
> I'm already working on the next fic in my (probably) 3-part series. The next one will be from Steph Curry's POV and pick up after the end of this story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Thanks to everyone who's reading!

It was about an hour after the game, and LeBron was the only one left at the arena. The rest of the guys had made quick use of the locker room, eager to leave and go out for a proper celebration, as they didn't leave to go back to Cleveland until the next morning. LeBron had told them to go on without him, waving away their protests. J.R. had promised to text him in a while to see when he was coming to meet them at the nearby bar they were partying at, but after a leisurely shower LeBron thought he might just go back to the hotel and call it a night.

He toweled off his still-damp head as he came back out into the main area of the locker room, dropping the towel on a nearby bench as he began gathering his things together. It felt good to be out of his sweaty uniform and into a fresh pair of sweats and an old, worn Akron t-shirt that had seen better days. He was looking forward to crashing into the luxurious king-sized bed back at the hotel and falling into a blissful sleep. Maybe he'd even dream of Curry's dumbstruck face at the end of the game.

LeBron smirked at the thought, his stomach giving a little twist at the image of Curry in his mind. Maybe he'd add in some 'quality time' with his hand before dropping off to sleep. Shaking his head at himself, he slung his bag over his shoulder and exited the locker room, phone in hand.

He was so intent on checking his messages--predictably, there were already 3 from a probably-drunk J.R., demanding to know where he was--that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going in the darkened, silent hall of the arena, and ended up running smack into something: or rather someone, by the feels of it.

There was a soft curse, and LeBron glanced up to see none other than Curry standing there, apparently having just come out of his own locker room. He was freshly washed from the looks of it, dressed casually like LeBron in a pair of black sweats and a silver hoodie. For a long moment they simply looked at each other, neither one saying a word, a faint grimace on Curry's face.

LeBron recovered quickly enough, looking down his nose at the shorter player. "What's the matter, man? No champagne tonight?"

Curry actually rolled his eyes at the reference, but there was a flush of color on his cheeks, his gaze suddenly fixed on a point on the floor. His tongue flicked against his teeth, as if forgetting the mouth guard was no longer there; he settled for swiping his tongue over his plump bottom lip instead. LeBron's eyes tracked the movement, stomach squirming in that way that he was beginning to get used to in relation to Curry. 

"Nice game," Curry said shortly, choosing to ignore the remark. His face was carefully neutral, but there was an edge of mocking to his voice. 

"Get used to saying that," LeBron told him. "That way you'll be ready to congratulate us when we crush your ass in the finals and take the trophy." He wasn't usually a shit talker--there was no point in it, when a fist could shut someone up much more efficiently--but Curry got under his skin, made him want to curse and claw and slap him down to size for fucking with LeBron's head with his magic 3-pointers and smart-ass comments to the media and pretty mouth.

Curry laughed, far too amused for LeBron's blood pressure. "Really? What makes you think that?" He arched a brow at LeBron, a smirk still playing around his lips. "You might've beat us tonight, but so what? Face it: we're going to take the championship again this year, after we finish grinding your b-rate team into the dust-"

In an instant LeBron had dropped his gym bag to the floor and shoved Curry up against the nearby wall, cutting off the tail end of his remark. Curry's green eyes were suddenly wide as saucers, his mouth slightly agape. LeBron smiled grimly: no matter how rich or famous he got, there was no erasing his Akron roots--or temper.

"Now what was that you were saying about our team?" LeBron said sharply, leaning in close. Curry swallowed audibly, his gaze sliding away from LeBron's face. He said nothing, tense but motionless in LeBron's grip.

"What's the matter? You were real smart a second ago. Is it 'cause you don't have your team here to back you up?"

Still, Curry said nothing, avoiding LeBron's eyes, his cheeks pink. Irritated by the other man's silence, his blood already hot, LeBron pushed even closer until they were flush up against each other, his left hand braced on the wall to bracket Curry in, the right one still knotted in the front of the silver hoodie. This close up he could smell Curry: warm and clean, like fresh linen straight from the wash.

"Or maybe it's because you know that even if you're a "warrior" on the court..when the game's over and all the cameras and fans fade away, you're nothing but a little bitch." LeBron leaned down to hiss the last word hotly in Curry's ear, his stubble scraping against the soft skin of Curry's cheek.

The biting remark got a reaction, but not the one he expected: Curry exhaled shakily, his eyes sliding shut, head slumping over to his shoulder as if he could no longer hold it up. He was breathing heavily, color high on his cheeks, his body tense as a guitar string. LeBron pulled back with a frown, wondering at the unusual response, when he noticed it: the front of Curry's sweatpants were tented unmistakably, and suddenly his reaction made a lot more sense.

Amazed, LeBron broke into a wide grin. "Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" he murmured, almost to himself. 

Emboldened, he situated his leg in between Curry's, pressing up and in against the other player's groin, while his right hand trailed down to slip under the edge of the hoodie and splay against the hot, smooth skin of Curry's stomach. Curry actually gasped, quivering faintly, his half-lidded eyes seeking out LeBron's at last. LeBron had barely touched him and he already looked utterly wrecked, expression dazed, lips parted invitingly.

"Please," he groaned, his hips working slowly to grind against LeBron's thigh.

LeBron couldn't remember the last time he'd been so hard. Despite the rushing of blood in his ears he had enough sense to take a quick look around--they were still alone, not a single soul to disturb them--before pulling Curry off the wall and shoving him in the direction of the locker room. Curry stumbled over his own feet like a newborn gazelle, so LeBron grabbed his arm impatiently, man-handling him towards the door.

LeBron shoved Curry inside, taking a second to lock the door behind them, before freeing his achingly hard dick from the confines of his sweats. Curry's eyes went wide, staring, and LeBron felt a little swell of satisfaction, his already-healthy ego growing just the tiniest bit.

"Get on your knees," he said shortly, giving his dick a few strokes, and Curry sunk like a stone, looking up at LeBron with pupils blown wide. LeBron cupped the back of his head and jerked him forward until his face was pressed against LeBron's groin. Curry groaned a little, his tongue flicking out to taste the wetness dripping from the tip, before swallowing LeBron down whole.

It was LeBron's turn to groan as Curry took an impressive amount into his mouth, his right hand coming up to grip the base, the nails on his left hand digging into LeBron's muscular thigh for leverage. Curry worked him over like a pro, sucking hard on the head, tonguing the slit, before sucking him back down, his cheeks sharply hollowed. His head bobbed back and forth as he worked, his brow furrowed in concentration, eyes tightly closed. 

It obviously wasn't his first time on his knees. The knowledge nearly made LeBron cum right then and there. He had a sudden vision of Curry kneeling in the locker room after each game, passing out blowjobs to his teammates like party favors, finally getting something better than that damned mouth guard to occupy his mouth.

Suddenly overcome with lust, LeBron shoved Curry back with a growl, his dick popping out from the plush mouth. Curry fell back onto his heels, glancing up at LeBron in lustful confusion, wiping his spit-soaked mouth on the back of his arm as he palmed his dick through his pants. 

LeBron grabbed Curry's upper arm and yanked him to his feet, slamming him up against the nearest locker. He shoved the silver hoodie up, baring Curry's small waist and flat stomach, his other hand reaching down to untie the sweatpants. Curry offered neither help nor resistance, licking at his swollen lips, heavy-lidded eyes locked onto LeBron. He leaned forward, trying to capture LeBron's mouth in his own, but LeBron slammed him back against the locker with a well-placed hand on his chest, Curry's head bouncing off the metal with a loud 'clang'.

Curry actually pouted, green eyes a little hurt, but he didn't try again. A second later LeBron had his pants undone and was spinning him forcefully, shoving him face-first against the locker and yanking his sweats and boxers down to mid-thigh.

Curry whimpered, tilting his pelvis and shoving his tight little ass back even further, offering himself up for the taking. LeBron wasted no time in kicking his feet apart as far as the pants would allow and stepping in close, his back pressed flush up against Curry's, his hard dick rubbing over the smooth skin of his ass. He gripped Curry's hip with one hand, grinding slowly against his ass, while his other hand migrated upwards to shove two fingers into Curry's mouth.

Immediately Curry wrapped his tongue around the thick digits, sucking wetly on them as he pressed back against LeBron as far as LeBron's grip would allow. LeBron waited a few more impatient moments before pulling his fingers away and trailing them down to Curry's ass to ghost over his hole.

The first finger went in smoothly; Curry gasped a little as LeBron worked it in and out of the tight channel. Moments later he added the second one, scissoring them both roughly, enjoying Curry's little noises as he loosened him up. All too soon he removed his fingers, intent on getting down to it, before a realization struck him.

LeBron turned and reluctantly pulled his sweats back up, jogging over to the door of the locker room. His gym bag was right where he'd dropped it, sitting there innocuously in the still-empty hall. LeBron quickly retrieved the small bottle of gold bond lotion in the outside pocket before going back inside.

Curry was right where he'd left him, pressed up against the locker with his ass exposed, craning his head to glance over his shoulder with a knitted brow.

"LeBron?" he questioned, sounding so needy and uncertain that LeBron couldn't help but smirk. He jogged back over to Curry, pressing up close again and giving his ass a small slap, the firm flesh jiggling under his touch. 

"Nothing," LeBron assured him, digging his fingers into the soft, round flesh and prying the cheeks apart roughly as he used his teeth to open the bottle of lotion. A second later he was coating his dick with a generous amount of the stuff, and then finally, finally he was pushing inside.

Curry cried out as LeBron sank deep, his back arched like a bow--either to escape or push closer, LeBron wasn't sure. He kept a grip on Curry's hip tight enough to bruise, holding the other man in place against the locker as he sank in, inch by inch. 

Finally he was fully seated, and it felt fucking incredible, the best LeBron had felt in a long time. Curry was so fucking tight, trembling against him as he struggled to relax and accomodate LeBron's girth. Heeding only his own pleasure LeBron barely paused to let him adjust, pulling all the way out and then slamming back in.

Curry screamed, clawing for a grip on the locker as LeBron set a punishing pace. He settled for bracing a forearm against the metal and resting his forehead on it, panting heavily as LeBron pounded into him, struggling not to be crushed against the locker from LeBron's brutal thrusts. "F-fuck! LeBron! LeBron--"

LeBron wound an arm around his upper chest and pulled him back, until Curry was bent back at a harsh angle, his head resting against LeBron's shoulder with throat bared. "What do you think your teammates would say if they saw you right now?" he muttered lowly in Curry's ear, still pounding into him, his other fingers digging into the soft skin of Curry's stomach. Curry let out a low moan, his head slumping to the side to bury his red face into LeBron's thick bicep as if he were embarrassed, although the way his dick twitched told LeBron everything he needed to know. He bit down on the soft skin between Curry's neck and shoulder, enjoying the other man's sharp gasp, flicking his tongue over the same spot a second later.

He suddenly released Curry, the other man falling forward and only just managing to catch himself from bashing his face into the locker. Grimly LeBron grabbed hold of both his hips, tilting him back even further until Curry was nearly bent double, and began to pound his ass in earnest, chasing his impending orgasm.

The new angle gave better access to both of them: Curry let out a sharp cry at each thrust, babbling out LeBron's name repeatedly, and a moment later he stiffened up, his entire body shaking as he came all over the bottom of the locker and the linoleum without his dick having even been touched. His orgasm made his ass clench even tighter around LeBron's dick, and the pressure and heat were too much: with a growl LeBron shoved as deep as he could and followed him over the edge, riding out his orgasm deep inside Curry.

A moment later LeBron pulled out, sweaty and breathing hard from exertion, feeling like he'd just played another basketball game. He watched Curry straighten up unsteadily, his own chest rising and falling heavily as he slumped against the locker, seemingly too fucked-out to pull up his pants. LeBron's cum was oozing out of him, trailing down the backs of his smooth, slim thighs to disappear into the legs of his pants. 

The sight made LeBron's dick twitch from inside his own sweats where he'd already tucked it away, and if he was ten years younger he might already be shoving into Curry for another round. For a second he was half-tempted to take out his phone and snap a picture to use as jerk-off material later. Instead he settled for grabbing up the towel he'd discarded earlier from the nearby bench, tossing it straight at Curry. It hit him in the back, falling to pool around his feet. Curry turned slightly, blinking, still looking utterly dazed.

"You got a little something there," LeBron told him, motioning towards the rivulets of cum still sliding down the back of his legs. 

"Funny." Curry scowled, looking faintly embarrassed. He leaned down unsteadily to snatch up the towel, his cheeks still aflame, sweat dripping down his temple. It amused some dark, primal part of LeBron when he saw how Curry was already having trouble moving: his shaky legs, his slow movements, the way he winced slightly when he bent to get the towel. 

LeBron found himself grinning, his good mood from their earlier win returning full force. "As much as I enjoyed destroying your ass for a second time tonight, I gotta get going," he said cheerily, already heading for the door. "Don't think this means I'm gonna go easy on you next time."

He glanced back right before the door swung shut to see Curry scowling at him from across the room, his pants still down, the towel clutched in his hand.

With a grin LeBron snatched up his gym bag and slung it over his shoulder, retrieving his phone from his pants pocket. There were two more messages from J.R. and a missed call from Kyrie. 

LeBron began tapping out a reply as he whistled tunelessly to himself, making his way down the hall. Maybe he felt like going out to party after all.


End file.
